


Deleted Scene: the Proposition

by NoirRosaleen



Series: Victorianisms On Tins [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse of tea, Cluebat, Courtship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirRosaleen/pseuds/NoirRosaleen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shock and awe doesn't exactly come naturally to Molly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deleted Scene: the Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> Molly doesn't really strike many people as having "bawdy" in her skillset, so the last bit of Noble Bachelor was slightly "out there" as it was written. However, this bit popped into my head when I actually took the time to think about how she might have gone from mousy Molly to "Fancy a shag?" Hope this helps your suspension of disbelief! ^_^

"Good morning, Mycroft. Fancy a- um, fancy- oh, bollocks!"

Molly Hooper, veteran of medical school, St. Bart's, and months of putting up with Sherlock bloody Holmes before and occasionally after his "death", flopped onto her couch as dramatically as her erstwhile housemate. The flowers were chosen, the trap was set, she just had to get her phrasing right.

Unfortunately, Molly wasn't terribly good at being bawdy. Blunt as she could be when work called for it, she'd never managed to be particularly bold when it came to men, or really her personal life in general. Even the one time she'd gone to a pub specifically to pull (because dammit, she was NOT going to let her classmates claim that she didn't have the courage for it, even if it was true), she'd spent the entire night cosied up to her pint of cider, glancing at a cute bloke across the bar she'd never gotten up the moxie to talk to. About three-quarters of the way down her pint a blonde had strolled up to him, raising an eyebrow and saying something in what looked like a saucy manner, and Molly had watched in envy as the man had laughed, stood up, and gone off into the crowd with the woman. What she wouldn't give to have that kind of confidence!

"You do, you know," said Sherlock from the kitchen.

"What?" Molly sat up, tossing off the pillow she'd put over her face when she'd flopped and looking at him.

"You absolutely have the brass to do this. You just need to separate your self-confidence from your work and apply it to this. Mycroft is undoubtedly a sure thing, there's no risk involved. In fact," he said thoughtfully, stirring a cup of something murky he probably imagined to be tea, "the more direct you can be with this, the greater your advantage. The objective is to overwhelm his inclination toward Victorianisms and get him to confess his interest out loud before he can retreat to his proper manners, correct?"

"While the teas are lovely, it would be nice if he could just say he's interested, yea," Molly grumbled.

"Then you have to shock it out of him. He won't simply say so, I assure you." Sherlock dumped a spoonful of sugar into his cup of murk and stirred more vigourously. Molly winced as he splashed a bit onto her kitchen floor, and not for the first time considered charging him the fee for a housecleaner.

"Yes, but directly propositioning him isn't exactly, well, me, is it?" she asked plaintively.

"It's more you than it is him," Sherlock replied, frowning down into his cup. "Do we have any milk?"

"No matter how much milk you put in that cup, it won't turn into anything remotely drinkable, Sherlock. You should really download a tea timer app or something, your brewing skills are dreadful." Sherlock snorted at that and started rummaging through the fridge. Molly raised her voice. "And stop using so much tea per cup, you only need one bag!"

Clinking sounds came from inside the fridge. "My tea habits are not your current concern. You have twenty minutes before you have to leave for work, don't you? Better get some more practice in if you're going to keep a straight face."

Sighing, Molly got up and went to the mirror again. "I am Molly Hooper, I've survived everything Sherlock bloody Holmes and New Scotland Yard can throw at me, I can survive this," she muttered to herself.

"Atta girl," Sherlock said from inside the fridge.


End file.
